


His Assignment

by jeejaschocolate



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, Bondage kink, Character Development, Established Relationship, F/M, Masturbation, Multi, References to canon racism, Spoilers for DA: The Masked Empire, Spoilers for some quests, Threesome - F/M/M, dom!lavellan, pansexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After recruiting Michel de Chevin as an agent, Inquisitor Lavellan has an idea about how she can use him. It turns out more pleasurable than anyone expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> This fic all started because of the war table mission "Assigning Michel de Chevin." Actually, I have a great idea on an assignment for him :) 
> 
> This is my first fic in the fandom, I have strong attachment to all the characters here so I decided it was time to turn out some fanfiction. I tried to explain a bit of my head canon around the Inquisitor character I created, hopefully that comes through (she's a rogue and a bit of fireball, that's how I see it). Besides that, Michel's backstory is taken from The Masked Empire, so look out for spoilers! All in all, I want this to be about the pairing though, especially the OT3. I feel like this works so well...
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Snowflakes swayed back and forth in the breeze, dancing around the Inquisitor’s body as she walked. The snowfall in Emprise du Lion seemed semi-constant, but it was more of an annoyance than anything. Lavellan brushed some flakes out of her shaggy bangs in irritation. Now that Imshael had been defeated and Suledin Keep reclaimed, Lavellan looked forward to returning to Skyhold as quickly as possible.  
  
“She has slain Imshael...” All the people of Sahrnia seemed to have heard about it. They whispered around Lavellan as she passed through the town. Some of them shouted openly--almost afraid of her, it seemed.  
  
At the entrance to the town stood Michel de Chevin, whom Lavellan had spoken with a few times. His blonde hair was getting tousled by the wind and he looked downright disheveled. Not to mention the fact that he still had his sword bared out of the sheath for some reason.  
  
Hiding her smirk, Lavellan sheathed her daggers across her back and approached him.  
  
“Inquisitor!” Michel called. “No sign of trouble, at the moment.”  
  
Snow melted as it landed on Lavellan’s armor, making the silverite shine in the gray light. She looked almost radiant, her darkly tanned skin standing out in strong contrast where it was visible against the bright metal of her armor.  
  
“It’s done,” she announced flatly. “The demon is dead.”  
  
Michel’s blue eyes glistened in amazement. “It is finally over...” he said slowly, looking away for a moment. Then he smirked suddenly and faced Lavellan again. “I wish I could have heard him scream but...Sahrnia is safe. It is a good day.”  
  
The chevalier shifted his weight back and forth. He wanted to say something else, clearly. Lavellan tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to explain. She could just come right out and ask him, but it was more fun to watch him search for the words.  
  
“Now I am free to choose a new direction,” Michel said finally, his words rushing out smoothly in his Orlesian accent. “I would be honored to serve the Inquisition. If it will have me...”  
  
As Michel trailed off, Lavellan watched his face turn somber at the unspoken question. Would she have him...?  
  
Of course she would. Lavellan smiled broadly. He was a strapping young chevalier, with a strong arm and a stout heart, so he said. Not to mention the attractive way his armor accentuated his broad build...and he was blonde, yes. Lavellan had a weakness for blondes it seemed... More importantly, it looked like he knew how to use that sword he brandished so casually.  
  
“The Inquisition welcomes you, Michel de Chevin.” Lavellan bowed her head slightly to show her sincerity.  
  
Michel returned the nod. “I shall return to your outpost to await further instruction.”  
  
Then, the chevalier got down on his knees to accept the Inquisitor’s initiation. As she bent over him, Lavellan could see his shoulders shaking slightly and his hands twitching. What was that about...?  
  
As soon as she was done, Michel quickly rose to his feet. “As I said, I will be at your outpost.” One more nod of his head and he brushed past Lavellan without so much as a second glance. She looked after him curiously, wondering why he was in such a hurry to be on his way.  
  
Vivienne sighed from her place behind the Inquisitor. “So. One of the most disgraced members of Celene’s court joins our ranks.” She raised an eyebrow in distaste. “You really can be more selective when you choose these agents, my dear.”  
  
“It will be good to have a chevalier among us. Someone who can train the troops.” Blackwall threw in his advice barely speaking above a mutter. “Some of that lot can hardly carry a sword from what I’ve seen...”  
  
“Let us hope he does not bring more demons to our doorstep,” Cassandra asserted, effectively putting a stop to any further commentary.  
  
Lavellan listened to their thoughts without saying anything of her own. She stared after Michel for a little while longer. Something about the man stuck out in her mind. Michel de Chevin...where exactly had she heard that name before?  
  
___________________________________________________________________  
  
Back at Skyhold, Lavellan watched from afar as Michel got acquainted with various soldiers and recruits, working his way around the tavern with a smile on his face. He was a likable guy. People seemed to warm up to him fairly quickly, especially when he told tales of his adventures working as the personal champion of Empress Celene. No one seemed at all interested in the details of his banishment and disgrace, much to Vivienne’s annoyance. In fact the subject never once came up.  
  
A few times Lavellan herself had sat down to drinks with Michel and some of the other soldiers. There was always a spot next to Iron Bull when it came to making room for yourself at the bar. Besides, people were generally very easy-going around Lavellan as she had made herself known as a comfortable drinker at the tavern.  
  
Still, whenever Lavellan joined in for a round, no matter how warm the welcome was from the others, Michel always seemed to grow distant. At the very least, the chevalier would look away quickly or take a big gulp from his drink so he would not have to give her a greeting of his own. His conversation turned quiet the second she sat down. If he was in the middle of a story, he would somehow always manage to trip himself up and make a mistake, tell a part the wrong way around or stumble over his words too much to be coherent.  
  
One time she sat next to Michel on purpose, just to see what would happen. Much to her chagrin, Michel did a double take and then turned away from her. She knew he was anxiously looking for a reason to move away.  
  
“Something wrong, Michel?” Lavellan asked, a friendly smile plastered on her face.  
  
Michel turned back to her reluctantly. For one second she caught the look at his face and saw--she was positive she saw this--an actual _blush_ coloring his cheeks.  
  
“No, no, I just--..”  
  
But then Iron Bull chose that moment to clap Michel on the back and tell him again about the time he outwitted Gaspard himself in a duel at one of Celene’s balls.  
  
Clearly grateful to get away, Michel left the table without a word to the Inquisitor and stood next to the group of men who were asking about the story. Immediately he launched into the tale, pointedly avoiding Lavellan’s gaze as he spoke.  
  
Lavellan found herself frankly annoyed by Michel’s attitude. Normally, it would not bother her in the slightest if one of her agents was a little bashful or timid around her, if anything she would find it amusing. But something about Michel, the way he was so obviously comfortable around everyone else but her...it bothered her. Besides, she could not get rid of the strong sense she felt that something was going on. As a rogue, and as an assassin, she was always inclined to listen to her misgivings about a person.  
  
She remembered the initial feeling she had after she recruited him. That name, Michel de Chevin, rang a bell in her memory but she could not place the source. Something she had heard? No, no. Orlesian speech always rolled over her ears without leaving too much of an impression. Perhaps something she had read?  
  
That’s it. One of the missives she had picked up from somewhere...she remembered reading the chevalier’s name because she could picture it clearly in print.  
  
For a moment she was almost dismayed. That meant she would have to look in the archives, where the Inquisition stored all the random missives found on her journeys. And she absolutely hated pouring over those crumpled texts. It would take some time to find the right one in all of that...  
  
Stout laughter rang out across the tavern. Lavellan’s ears pricked up and she looked in the direction of the sound. Sure enough, Michel stood completely at ease, laughing the evening away with the gang of soldiers. That and the way he was so obviously _not looking at her_ made up Lavellan’s mind.  
  
The red-headed elf stood up abruptly, letting her chair scrape against the floor. A few heads turned to look, though she did not even bother to see if Michel was looking. She knew he was not. Probably would not even if she stood on her head and sang Chantry songs.  
  
How irritating.  
  
She left the tavern and marched straight towards the archives to find what she was looking for.  
  
______________________________________________________________________  
  
The dim light of the archives might have made a person squint, but Lavellan was a Dalish elf and trained in the ways of stealth. She could still see in the poor light, but really it was the smell of old paper that bothered her. She had never been one to spend her time locked away in a study--she was nothing like Solas, after all.  
  
“Now where have I seen that name...?” she whispered to herself, running a finger along a row of texts.  
  
Whoever had filed these missives did a good job of cataloguing them, she had to admit. They were grouped according to subject matter and by the date they were written. So it was easy for Lavellan to scroll along the shelf filled up with Orlesian noble history, peruse the section about the Academie de Chevaliers, uncover something uninteresting about Comte Brevin de Chalons...  
  
Worthless. She did not care about Michel’s patron or whatever. Besides, none of that helped to jog her memory about what she had read before.  
  
Where could she have found this supposed missive? Anywhere in Thedas, possibly. But no, it had to have been somewhere at the Winter Palace. Something scandalous perhaps, a secret she had uncovered to blackmail Celene or Briala, something like that...?  
  
Lavellan backtracked and combed through the section for Leliana’s spies. She would have given anything scandalous to Leliana for her to use to their advantage, certainly, so it made sense that the missive could be here...  
  
As she poured through the various letters and unsigned trade agreements, Lavellan’s golden eyes shone in the darkness. Her dark brown, sun-kissed skin made her form blend into her surroundings. Even her red hair, truly deep burgundy in color, faded into the shadows so that it seemed her head was merely a wine-colored smudge against the shelves. Her only features that stood out were her large, golden elf eyes and the bright yellow of her vallaslin.  
  
Tattooed in the style of Elgar’nan, Lavellan had long, vine-shaped yellow lines running up her cheeks and nose, blossoming into branches along her forehead. She had chosen the color and style of her vallaslin so that it would stand out against her dark skin, also because it echoed the burning fire that dwelled in her soul.  
  
She had always been quick to anger, quick to lashing out. Her mouth and her daggers ran ahead of her thinking at times. But she was also a creature with strong loyalties, and she was unusually far-sighted when it came to strategizing. These were things that stood in her favor as the Inquisitor, and Lavellan was more than happy with who she had become in life. Being the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, was quite different from the fate her Keeper had suspected for her. Back then she had been nothing but the brash rogue of the clan, just a little too skilled with her daggers to be considered safe and reliable.  
  
Regardless, Lavellan thought it was better to be called a thief than a flat-ear, for she was proud of her Dalish heritage even if she did not quite fit in with the other members of her clan. Maybe there was something in the old tales of capricious, all-powerful gods that inspired Lavellan. Certainly she liked always being on the move, roaming the forests on the outskirts of the map.  
  
She kept her hair in a shaggy, unkempt pixy-cut that did absolutely nothing to hide her pointy, almost too-large ears. Let anyone call her a knife-ear, she would gladly pull out her own knives in retaliation (not because that insult bothered her too much, mostly because she would stand against any affront on principle alone, and also to have an excuse to fight). Besides, she found the pixy-cut to be easy to deal with. Her hair did not get in the way during a fight. She kept it shaggy out of some vague attempt at style, but mostly due to poor habit. Lavellan could hardly be bothered with all that, in truth.  
  
Now it was almost nighttime. She had lost all the daylight, for sure, and that was certainly irritating. Someone was waiting for her, she knew, in his lonely office on the ramparts...waiting for her to chase away any lingering tasks from the day’s heavy workload...  
  
“Damn, I was all over that palace, I know I found something...” Lavellan whispered to herself, flipping anxiously through all the letters that were left.  
  
There. A letter from someone named Melcendre to another unknown bard, hardly even concealed considering the weight of the words on the page. There was information about Michel’s heraldry, something about a forged title, and then...  
  
Lavellan’s golden eyes widened in shock. Could it be true...?  
  
She found herself grinning. Quite the secret. No wonder she had felt something special about Michel. This was almost too good to keep to herself. But no, this was personal, she knew she did not have the right to go flaunting it around Skyhold.  
  
But then...what to do with this information? Not blackmail, they weren’t playing The Game after all, and what would it get her? No, but certainly there was a way to use this, even if she just confronted Michel with the information privately. She had a right, after all, for her own sake.  
  
Suddenly the pieces fell into place. No wonder she made Michel nervous. Lavellan’s grin faded. Actually, she felt rather sorry for him. What kind of life had the man lived for so long, before all his chevalier triumphs? Such a beautiful face he had, the mask on top of all the personal shame he must feel...  
  
That settled it. Lavellan put the letter back where she found it. She would use the information for good, to settle things between the two of them, hopefully in the best way possible.  
  
Now it was time to meet her lover. Cullen was probably already lonely. They had barely spent any time together these past few days, various duties and tasks standing in the way. Sometimes she was not sure which of them shared the greater burden, her or her commander, and perhaps that was not even so surprising. Still, one of her greater passions in life was relieving them both of their tensions. Already, Lavellan’s thoughts stretched into the night ahead, what she would do for Cullen to make up for all the time they had been apart...  
  
The first thing to go was always the armor. Lavellan would strip Cullen apart piece by piece, sending each hunk of metal crashing to the floor. When he stood in nothing but his under-armor, Lavellan would kiss him within an inch of his life. No matter how many times they kissed, she always seemed to take the commander by surprise with her passion, leaving him breathless and near defenseless in the aftermath... She would leave the rest of his clothes on until he was dying to be rid of them, so much that he would literally tear them off his body so that he could be closer to Lavellan.  
  
That was what she loved the most. She loved everything about Cullen, naturally, he had become the most important thing in the world to her after all that had happened and all they had done together, but that, making him lose control of himself in a rush of pure lust...that was absolutely the best----  
  
“Oh, Inquisitor!” A woman’s voice startled Lavellan out of her reverie.  
  
Leliana stood at the entrance to the archives looking rather startled. “I’m so sorry, my lady, you...surprised me! What are you doing, standing there in the dark?”  
  
Lavellan sighed. There went the pleasant buzz of arousal she had conjured up thinking about her delicious commander.  
  
“No, I’m sorry, Leliana. I should have lit a candle or something to let someone know I was in here.”  
  
“Yes, you should have...” Leliana said absentmindedly, already rummaging through a pile of papers she was carrying in her arm. “Well, while I have you, let me go over some important matters I was saving for the war table.”  
  
“Actually, Leliana, I was hoping to be on my way, I have something of an urgent appointment---”  
  
Completely ignoring her, Leliana began listing a host of various scenarios that needed her attention. Things to do with Darkspawn, worries over the Red Templars, a few ominous letters about the Venatori that had made their way into Inquisition hands...  
  
Lavellan crossed her arms and tried to listen patiently. She could feel her control ebbing away however as she thought more and more about Cullen wiling away the hours in his office, writing furiously as the candles on his desk burned down to nothing...  
  
Enough. All of Lavellan’s patience dissolved into thin air.  
  
“Alright, Leliana, that’s enough!” She found herself practically yelling now, a harsher tone than she had anticipated. “Really, that’s more than enough talk of this for one night! I understand I need to look into all these matters one by one, but the day is done now and I have my own business to attend to---”  
  
Leliana sighed and discreetly rolled her eyes. “Alright. But one last thing, my lady.”  
  
Of course. There was no end. Lavellan set her jaw and reminded herself of her responsibilities. “What is it?”  
  
“Will you just consider one more matter, my lady, especially since you’ll be seeing the commander tonight?”  
  
“Go ahead.” She did not bother to comment on the fact that Leliana either knew or had deduced her plans for the evening.  
  
“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that Ser Michel de Chevin has made a name for himself among the people living here. You spend enough time in the taverns with all of them to know that. The fact is, I think he has more than settled in. The time has come to assign him to a role among the Inquisition ranks.”  
  
“What do you mean assign him?”  
  
“Well, he should hold rank here, certainly, he’s far too skilled just to be a foot soldier. Plus, there are many different ways in which he can use him.”  
  
Suddenly, Lavellan found herself listening very closely.  
  
“He has knowledge of the Orlesian court, obviously, so he is useful to Josephine if you wish to assign him to her as an advisor to our noble allies, or a liaison. He has struck up a friendship with the soldiers and he’s a chevalier with great experience, so you can also give him to Cullen to be a mentor to those who fight in our armies. I’m also told he has knowledge of the eluvian mirrors...”  
  
As Leliana spoke, Lavellan found herself focusing on a few choice words the spymaster had said, probably unintentionally. Still, the elf realized that she could not even attempt to think of anything else, her imagination beginning to run wild as she thought of a positively wonderful scenario that would solve a variety of her problems all in one.  
  
Now, the question was, could she pull it off?  
  
Lavellan smiled. Leliana was speaking of eluvians and something about hidden passageways between worlds, but honestly Lavellan had stopped listening. There were much more interesting things that would come of this recruitment, she would see to that.  
  
“Understood, Leliana,” Lavellan said once there was an appropriate pause. “I’ll give this matter some thought. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”  
  
“You’re...welcome, my lady,” Leliana replied, clearly surprised at being thanked. Lavellan’s mood had turned around completely, it seemed.  
  
“Now, good evening, I will speak with you more tomorrow.”  
  
Making sure to bow once, slightly, out of respect, Lavellan left the archives and headed straight for the ramparts to meet Cullen. She would enjoy this night, there was no question of that. Besides that, there were many things in place for the future that promised to be quite nice indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I suddenly decided all that character development was important, not really sure why. But it's nice to have!
> 
> Read on for some good old-fashioned sexy times!


	2. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Inquisitor makes plans, she needs to set things in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, sorry everyone, I had to add one more chapter. This story has more pieces to it than I thought! But it's all good things.
> 
> Also, the Inquisitor's real name is shamelessly stolen from the Silmarillion. I picked her name after a character that I thought had similar qualities, a fun reference that helped me shape her personality a little better. Sorry, I'm not all that sorry!

Cullen sat in his office, reading over the last of the documents from that day’s batch of reports. His eyes were doing a wonderful job of dutifully skimming the lines, but he found he could hardly concentrate well enough to comprehend what he was reading.  
  
After about the fourth or fifth time trying to understand the same sentence, the commander sighed and put down his paperwork. Rubbing his temples in exhaustion, Cullen tried to go over the day’s work again in his mind. He had accomplished a lot, in truth, but there was yet more to be done and he could hardly afford to rest so early in the evening...  
  
Yet even as he considered this, the commander could not help but think of things he would rather be doing. He missed her, obviously. He had not even seen her in several days, far too long for his liking.  
  
Memories of previous times spent with the Inquisitor flooded Cullen’s memory. He thought back to their last time together, when they had made love in his own modest bedroom, just up the ladder that led down into his office, the one that practically mocked him now. He remembered how it felt, pressed between the Inquisitor’s naked thighs, her legs wrapped around him as she sat on the bed. He stood, driving into her, her breath hot on his face...he stared into her golden eyes as he came, her own face radiant as she rode out her own pleasure...  
  
Then there was the time when Lavellan sat beneath this very desk and took him in her mouth... She never broke eye contact with him as she did it, dragging out each sensation with her tongue, letting Cullen suffer the prolonged contact. She explored the contour of his most intimate part with slow, natural relish, until he was so desperate for more he was honestly bucking into her mouth (something he had never done with anyone else before and was actually quite ashamed of). He came with a scream, when she finally let him. Then shortly after that the Inquisitor had sat herself upon his desk and asked that he do the same for her. By the Maker, Cullen would never forget her sweet, unrefined taste. Her scent tormented him still, it was even better than the scent of strong black tea...  
  
Cullen opened his eyes in dismay. He looked down at himself and sighed again. Thinking about her made him more than a little hard, and now he would probably have to take care of it himself. Not that he minded doing that, after all he had subsisted on pleasuring himself for years in the Circle and then after Kirkwall, but...still.  
  
Oh well. Steeling himself against the sting of disappointment slithering its way into his heart, Cullen tried to forget about everything else for a moment as he ran his hand along the increasingly large bulge at the front of his pants. He was more than an expert at this, at least. And he had plenty of memories to help him along.  
  
He ran his free hand along the edge of his desk, remembering the time when he had thrown all his papers aside and lain the Inquisitor down on his desk. He had stripped her naked that time, the first time they were together, taking his time for as long as he could. Seeing Lavellan’s naked body for the first time, seeing that tanned figure laid out before him with open arms, an honest, joyful smile on her face...even the memory forced a groan out of him that he tried to stifle by clearing his throat (even though there was no one there to hear him).  
  
Cullen pulled apart the laces at the front of his pants, reaching into his small clothes with a drawn out sigh. Even just the touch of his own hand was enough to make him shiver. How long had it been, really? Was he that much a slave to his own flesh?  
  
Forgetting that question for the time being, Cullen gripped himself and dragged his thumb across the length of his cock, trying to reenact the things Lavellan had done with her tongue, things that he could not imitate even when he tried, but actually just the memory was enough. He was already close, would probably come right there. As he worked himself harder, Cullen reminded himself that he would need to catch his spend in his hand so as not to make a mess in his own office...  
  
“Cullen.”  
  
Hearing his name, the commander very nearly had an aneurysm. He wrenched his hand out from beneath his clothes and straightened up immediately, face hot with shame as he looked to see who it was.  
  
It was Lavellan, thank Andraste.  
  
“Maker’s breath...” Cullen sighed, looking at his elf lover in disbelief. “I did not hear you...”  
  
“Yes, for some reason you never hear me come in, my dear.” Lavellan approached Cullen’s desk with a smile, clearly enjoying the sight she had walked in on. “And I mean, I literally just walked in. Who knows who else it could have been...”  
  
“Alright, alright,” Cullen said, looking down slightly, his face growing redder by the second as he imagined someone else walking in on him while he was...damn it all.  
  
“No, please,” Lavellan said, moving to his side of the desk. She perched herself on the edge of it, sitting comfortably as if she had grown used to that spot. “Don’t be embarrassed just because I’m here, _ma vhenan_. In fact, you don’t even need to stop if you don’t want to...”  
  
As she spoke, Lavellan ran a hand down Cullen’s face and neck, letting her fingers trail slowly down the rest of his body while Cullen watched. The commander sighed with relief. In all honesty he had been ready to come before his lover came in, and the tension had not left him at all.  
  
He looked back at her with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you,” he said softly, letting her touch him wherever she wanted.  
  
Lavellan held onto both of Cullen’s shoulders and stared back at him for a moment. “You too,” she replied.  
  
Joy rippled through the commander and he let himself enjoy the rest of the fleeting moment of tenderness. Then, he was ready to move on. He gripped Lavellan by the waist and pulled her into his lap. She collided against him with a moan.  
  
Hearing that sound out of her was more than enough to spur him on. He kissed her fiercely, never once letting go of her tantalizing hips. Relishing in the familiar taste of her skin, Cullen dragged his mouth down her neck and started undoing buttons and clasps on her clothing. He opened her shirt and ran his hands along her small, tender breasts. The feel of them was enough to make him groan deeply as he kissed her, feeling the way Lavellan gripped him tightly in response.  
  
“Maker, what took you so long to get here?” Cullen asked, almost laughing.  
  
Lavellan chuckled in response. “I have to ask you something, actually, my love.”  
  
Pulling her shirt away from her body so that she sat naked to the waist, Cullen stopped for a moment and stared at her. By all that was holy he would never get tired of the sight of her.  
  
But then, her words registered. “...What is it...?” Cullen asked haltingly, unsure if it was related to what they were doing or not.  
  
Lavellan smiled and swirled her finger along the contour of his armor. Cullen sighed a little, knowing that the Inquisitor was teasing him on purpose.  
  
“You know that I recruited Michel de Chevin as an agent, right? You read that report a while ago?”  
  
Cullen stared blankly for a moment. Then he remembered. “Oh yes, Michel de Chevin, Celene’s former champion. Yes I remember. I’ve seen him a few times around the fortress, I think.” Unable to hold back, the commander started planting kisses between his lover’s breasts as he spoke.  
  
Letting herself sigh into the touch, Lavellan kept talking. “Yes, well, I have to assign him to one of my advisors it seems. He needs a role here, after all.”  
  
“...Alright.” Cullen started playing with the clasps on the Inquisitor’s pants, dying to see her naked once more. He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. Her face was strangely contemplative, as if she was still thinking about whatever problem it was that had arisen to her attention.  
  
Achingly hard now beneath his clothes, Cullen planted his hands firmly on top of Lavellan’s legs. He would have to get to the bottom of this before they went any further.  
  
“What is this about, Arien?” he asked.  
  
Lavellan’s given name, her real name. Almost no one knew what it was, only the people of her clan and her advisors at Skyhold. It had been revealed as a matter of course during liaisons between the Inquisition and the Lavellan clan, but still, no one referred to her by that name. Except for Cullen. She had given him permission to do so, but only privately, just between the two of them. Given names were a private business in her clan and she intended to keep it that way.  
  
Still, the sound of it on Cullen’s lips never failed to drive her crazy with want.  
  
She grinned, looking predatory in nature. Holding his face between her hands, she kissed him once more, considering holding off this conversation until after they had made love.  
  
But Cullen was not pliant in her hands, clearly he wanted her to say whatever was on her mind. Alright, then. Better to have it out.  
  
“Well,” Lavellan began, shaking her bangs away from her face as she began. “I want to give him to you, Cullen, so you can...use him however you like.”  
  
Cullen just stared at her. “...Meaning what, exactly?”  
  
Lavellan shrugged. “For one thing he’ll be a perfect mentor for the soldiers here. I’m told he’s quite good with a blade, trained at the Academie, as well...”  
  
Narrowing his eyes, Cullen tried to understand what his lover wanted from all this. She often made complicated plans like this, things that he had to struggle to figure out from afar. “And for what else would you have me use him?” he asked, brushing her shoulder with his hand affectionately.  
  
“Well, are you attracted to him?”  
  
Cullen paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. When Lavellan did not so much as crack a smile in return, he stopped.  
  
“Oh. You mean...that.” The commander looked away for a moment. “...How long have you known this about me? That I’m...amenable to both genders?”  
  
Lavellan smiled and stroked his face. “For a while now,” she replied. “It’s just one of the things we have in common, _ma vhenan_ , and another of the many things I love about you.”  
  
Fighting down the initial surge of embarrassment, Cullen began to smirk. “Alright, but how? How did you figure it out?”  
  
At that, Lavellan had to choke back some laughter. It had not been a difficult discovery, after all. “Oh my dear,” she said, kissing him on the forehead. “Do you not know?”  
  
Cullen shook his head, honestly curious now.  
  
The elf sighed. “When you’re drunk, you stare at Dorian.”  
  
“No I...!” Cullen turned a dark shade of red and trailed off. ...Did he really do that?  
  
Lavellan grimaced slightly, realizing that her lover was truly oblivious to this. She nodded silently, hoping that his pride was not damaged too much. After all, she hardly thought it was anything to be ashamed of.  
  
Cullen groaned and bent forward, resting his head against Lavellan’s shoulder. “Just tell me this, does Dorian know?”  
  
Laughing nervously (the answer was almost undoubtedly yes), Lavellan stroked her commander’s neck. “Well, maybe you can ask him, someday.” Before her lover could respond with a wounded comment, Lavellan continued speaking. “It’s nothing to worry about, anyway. It’s all fine, my dear. The point is, what do you think about that chevalier I’m talking about?”  
  
Trying to think back to the man in question, Cullen conjured up an image of Michel de Chevin. Actually, he remembered the man clearly. Apparently he had made something of an impression after all...a poised, distantly wounded face, strong body, and unassuming nature. These were things that Cullen had found pleasant when they met briefly, things that he could definitely find...attractive in a certain light.  
  
In all honesty, who wouldn’t be attracted to the man? Famed champion, not to mention the social pariah element that followed him like a unwanted shadow...Michel was at the very least a notable curiosity. And his features certainly did him no harm.  
  
“Well?” Lavellan asked after a time. “What do you think?”  
  
“He has some noteworthy characteristics, I’ll give you that,” Cullen conceded, not nearly as embarrassed as he thought he would be. It was hard to feel embarrassed  considering the way Lavellan held all of this to be perfectly natural.  
  
The Inquisitor laughed. “Fair enough. Are these characteristic that you would be...amenable to?”  
  
Cullen smiled and kissed the elf’s throat. He looked up at her slyly. “Are you asking me if I want to fuck him, my dear?”  
  
“Oh yes,” Lavellan replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Quite.”  
  
“...Is this a real offer then?” Cullen frowned for a moment. “Are there propositions on the table?”  
  
“No, not yet,” Lavellan answered. “But give it time. I’d love for the two of you to have a proper meeting soon.”  
  
“Well, if it pleases you, my love, I would take this chevalier from noon til night, as properly as you like.” Now Cullen laid more kisses to her breasts, this time taking one of her nipples into his mouth to tease.  
  
Lavellan loved it when her commander was like this. And she truly believed that he was interested, for all his teasing.  
  
Well then. That was something to consider.  
  
The elf cried out as Cullen bit down especially hard. She was very much turned on now and didn’t want to think about anything else.  
  
“Now, enough about this damned chevalier,” Cullen started to say. He took her face in his hands. “The only person I’m interested in fucking right now is you, Inquisitor.”  
  
Her golden eyes flashed. “Then let it be done,” she said. They both had enough teasing for one night.  
  
They made love to each other in that very spot, not even bothering to move from the chair at Cullen’s desk. Lavellan stripped naked and rode Cullen as hard and as fast she could, barely even removing his outer armor first. Any plans for drawing out the moment were lost, the conversation and build up had already brought the two of them past the point of all that. They almost came at the same time, but Cullen followed slightly behind. He wanted to make sure his love was thoroughly pleasured before letting himself go.  
  
Afterwards, they spent the night in Cullen’s bedroom upstairs. Sleep came easily, wrapped in each other’s familiar arms.  
  
__________________________________________________________________  
  
The following day, Lavellan decided she would have to confront Michel with something--she wasn’t sure which part yet, but she needed to reveal at least some of her plan in order for any of it to move forward.  
  
So, she found herself standing in one of the long hallways in Skyhold, one of the corridors that was mostly abandoned but still held a small traffic of people from time to time. Her spies (well, casual informants) told her that Michel often passed through here on his way to the training grounds.  
  
Lavellan reasoned that she had no hope of confronting him in a common area, like the tavern or even the main hall, because that would mean exposing to much the other people around them. No need for that. So, that meant that she would have to bide her time and wait for Michel to pass by on his way elsewhere. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, watching a handful of people pass now and then, considering the many directions her plan could go.  
  
Fortunately, she was not waiting long. Perhaps the gods thought her cause worthy enough of success, because she had been standing in the hallway no more than twenty minutes before Michel came walking by.  
  
The chevalier seemed to be in a hurry, as he always did. His head was down and his gait was rushed. He paid no mind to his surroundings and certainly did not seen the Inquisitor where she stood against the wall.  
  
Clearing her throat, Lavellan made her presence known. Michel’s gaze flicked over to her and he visibly flinched. Keeping his head down, the man tried to keep moving past her.  
  
“Oh, uh, Michel!” Lavellan called out, irritated all over again that he would try to ignore her like that.  
  
Hearing her call out his name, Michel just raised a hand in response, not even bothering to turn around or even to slow down his walk. He just raised a hand in passing and turned his head slightly in her direction, the most obvious kind of brush-off imaginable.  
  
Lavellan was truly angry now. How dare that chevalier just wave his hand at her like she was some kind of...of servant girl or something?  
  
Pushing herself off the wall, Lavellen stood in the middle of the corridor and shouted after Michel as loud as she could without actually yelling, “I hope it doesn’t bother you that I’m an elf.”  
  
Michel stopped dead in his tracks. He whipped around to face her. The expression on his face when their gazes met was at first one of pure shock, but then his eyes narrowed into a look of dark suspicion.  
  
“What...what do you mean by that?” Michel asked her quietly, moving closer by a few steps.  
  
Lavellan wanted to smile in triumph just because she finally got him to turn around and face her. But no, this was no victory yet.  
  
“I only mean that I hope it does not bother you to work for an elf.” She paused, letting that land. “I mean, considering your history. Considering your mother---”  
  
“Stop!” Michel held up both of his hands in a gesture of extreme surrender, trying to will her to stop. He rushed over and was upon her in an instant. “Wait! Just...just wait a moment, please.”  
  
Looking around frantically, the chevalier spotted a group of people milling around the doorway of the corridor. Not a one of them seemed interested in the two of them, but Michel seemed to freeze in panic nonetheless. He searched the area again and found a small dark alcove over to the side.  
  
Forgetting himself, Michel grabbed the Inquisitor’s shoulder. “Let us talk somewhere more...private.” He pulled her into the alcove.  
  
For her part, Lavellan was surprised at how dark Michel seemed to turn all of a sudden. She had not necessarily expected that. Still, she was hardly afraid of him. Let him pull her wherever he liked, it made no difference to her.  
  
When they were covered by the shadows, Michel checked over both his shoulders twice more for good measure. Then he turned to face the Inquisitor. The shadows around them covered most of his face so that all of his more attractive features were swallowed by the dark. His intense blue-eyed gaze bored into her all the more fiercely.  
  
He planted his palms loudly against the wall, each hand on either side of the Inquisitor’s face. He had meant to trap her between his arms, but then the chevalier seemed to remember himself slightly. Glancing downward, he set his arms wider apart to give her space, and also lower so as not to be so threatening.  
  
Once Michel had settled his stance, he leaned close to her so that he spoke barely above a whisper. She could feel his breath against her own face as the chevalier began to speak.  
  
“Tell me now. What is it you know?”  
  
Lavellan raised her eyebrows in response. “I think you already know.”  
  
Michel’s jaw twitched in agitation at her words. “But I need you to tell me so that I know for sure what it is.”  
  
Lavellan shrugged, not one to be intimidated. She dropped her voice down to the barest minimum of a whisper and told him.  
  
“I know that half of your blood is elven. Your mother was an elf and your father a human peasant. You owe part of your lineage to my people and that is definitely not something---”  
  
“Enough!” Michel’s face turned more severe with each word that left the Inquisitor’s mouth. Now Lavellan noticed that he was shaking. His jaw trembled as if he might burst out into some kind of emotional display, either tears or violence...  
  
Then suddenly, just as Lavellan was preparing herself to actually fight this man, the chevalier let his arms fall to his sides. He breathed out a long sigh and turned his face completely downward so that the Inquisitor could not see his expression.  
  
“So you know everything then...” When Michel spoke, Lavellan barely recognized his voice, he sounded so dismal and desperate. “I suppose I should have known this would happen someday...”  
  
“Michel, I want to tell you that--”  
  
“What do you want for it then? What do you plan to do with this information?” The chevalier looked up at her with eyes that seemed to carry the weight of his entire soul in that moment.  
  
Lavellan felt complete sympathy for him then, all of her anger gone. There was nothing of the stout-hearted man here that she knew. His pain was so palpable, and all from the realization that someone else knew his secret. Lavellan wanted him to know that there was no reason for it.  
  
“Let me explain,” she began. Without even noticing, her hand fell upon Michel’s shoulder softly, what she hoped was a gesture of reassurance. The chevalier flinched and took a step backward as if she had slapped him.  
  
She took her hand away and continued. “Michel. I want to tell you that there is nothing I want from you except for your honesty. Besides that, all I want is for you to hear me out when I tell you what your future could be like if you stay with the Inquisition.”  
  
Michel narrowed his eyes again, seeming to listen.  
  
Not meeting resistance, Lavellen kept going. “So, then, come to my quarters this evening, before the sunset. I have a proposition for you.”  
  
“A proposition?” Michel’s eyes shimmered, as if he was afraid where this was going. “And if I refuse?”  
  
“If you refuse then you refuse. That’s your choice.” Lavellan shrugged again and crossed her arms.  
  
Michel looked away for a moment. “I assume you’ll blackmail me into accepting?” he said, almost casually.  
  
“No, Michel. No blackmail. Like I said, it’s your choice. You get to decide what happens now.”  
  
The chevalier breathed out a small laugh, scoffing at the idea. He knew she held all the power and he clearly did not believe her.  
  
Lavellan sighed. “Alright, believe whatever you want. Just come to my quarters tonight. It’ll be worth your while.”  
  
Feeling that she had said all that she could, Lavellan eyed Michel one more time and then moved past him, walking away from their clandestine meeting entirely. She decided whatever happened from here on out was not up to fate but up to Michel’s own will, regardless of what the man thought.  
  
Alone in the alcove, Michel leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the wall. The furious anger and desperation in him had not subsided at all. Sadly, the coolness of the stone did nothing to ease his troubled mind.  
  
He would have to make the decision if he would go to the Inquisitor or not. But he did not feel as if he had any choice in the matter.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the last, for real this time. And we all know where this is headed :)


	3. Actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With everything in place, Lavellan has only to act on what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, pretty long bit of smut here. Writing that was definitely an experience. Yup.
> 
> Enjoy!

It did not take Michel long to decide that he would go to Lavellan’s quarters. He could not risk her knowing his secret without negotiating the terms of it first.  
  
Gathering up his courage, Michel walked solemnly to the throne room, searching for the door that led to her quarters. He fixed an emotionless expression on his face while he walked, but internally he felt a sense of dread rooted to his very core.  
  
He was accustomed to this. Fear was something he had lived with ever since he was a child. In fact, he remembered the feeling so clearly it felt as though had been raised by fear itself, like it was his most constant mentor throughout his early years. After all, growing up in the slums of Montfort alongside his elven mother had shown him exactly what the world could offer the bastard half-elf son of a peasant.  
  
Michel had learned never to rely on elves. In the alienage, the majority of people he interacted with on a daily basis were elves. No matter how hard his mother worked to keep them both alive, anyone who saw Michel reserved a certain...look, just for him. Michel saw their expressions and could recognize what they meant ever since before he could give words to it. The elves would look at him, even if it was just a glance (for none could resist the temptation of looking, the curiosity for a half-breed was too strong), and their eyes would fill with a strong contemptuousness.  
  
There was some pity in that look, as well as some natural curiousness. Then there was suspicion, wondering what the future held for this child, what allegiance would he claim when he was grown. There was also disgust, the shame of his mother’s decisions written all over his features, how she had slept with a human and begotten a child. And then, in the elves’ eyes also, there was always hatred. They hated him for his looks, the way he could pass as human if he pleased. The very thing that set him apart from the rest of the elves, the thing that helped him pass among humans, made him capable of escaping the alienage, of living outside the boundaries of their race. If only he could keep the secret.  
  
So, bearing that look for so many years had driven Michel to distrust elves, the ones who would shun him and tease him, or who would throw rocks, or set his mother up for failure in the alienage. He came to realize that all elves would feel the same way once they knew his heritage.  
  
Except for...well. Her. Lavellan’s face had been different when she told him what she knew. There was something about her that he could not explain...  
  
Regardless, as much as he might have feared the elves, it was never as much as he feared the chevaliers. They would come to Montfort to kill peasants for sport. In the memories of his beginnings lived the hateful look of the elves and the loud, raucous laughter of the humans as they killed off the people around him.  
  
Even though all of that was in the past, Michel’s heart felt heavy as he realized he could never escape it. Not even in Skyhold, after he had fallen from the highest point of grace at Celene’s side.  
  
As Michel arrived at the door to Lavellan’s quarters, he imagined briefly what it would be like if the Inquisitor released the information about his bloodline. It all depended on who she would tell. If she informed the Academie, well then, Michel’s name would be stripped from the rolls and they would certainly hunt him down for execution (a forged title was no small matter to the Academie). But even if Lavellan did not want to go that far, all she had to do was leak the information to a noble in Orlais, let word go around the court. The hushed whispers would damage Empress Celene because she would seem weak having unknowingly let a half-breed serve as her champion, even in the past. So, if the nobles knew, Celene’s reputation and Michel’s very life would hinge upon their wagging tongues.  
  
Not something the chevalier would allow. If he could help it. Who knew what proposition the rogue Inquisitor had in mind for him.  
  
Michel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his shaking hands. Letting out a quiet sigh, he opened the door to her quarters and climbed the stairs.  
  
________________________________________________________________  
  
  
When Michel arrived in Lavellan’s room, he quietly noted the grandiosity of the place and scanned the area for the elf. He saw her standing outside on the veranda. Her back was to him and she wore a loose-fitting white tunic that had no sleeves. The material looked like silk and it wafted around her dark body as the wind blew. She wore also black leggings that fit the contour of her shapely legs. It seemed Lavellan was staring off into the distance and Michel watched her back for a moment, studying her.  
  
“Glad you could make it,” Lavellan said, without turning around. “It’s not too cold out here, if you’d like to stand with me.”  
  
Michel took the offer wordlessly and walked to her side. The elf was resting her forearms against the railing, looking casual and unhurried. Did she know, she had to know, about the tossing sea of rage and anxiety that Michel suffered at that moment?  
  
“I was beginning to worry you would not come here,” Lavellan said, still not looking at him. “I said to come before sunset and as you can see, it’s already started.”  
  
Michel suddenly realized that she was right, the sun was indeed setting. The orange light bathed Lavellan in a strange glow. The tattoo on her face seemed to shine in response, as if the yellow in it mingled with the light of the sun to create its own light. In curiosity, Michel looked down the rest of her form. He noticed that she was not wearing anything beneath her tunic and he could clearly see the outline of her breasts...  
  
But that was nonsense. Michel blinked and looked away, not wanting to see Lavellan in that light.  
  
“You had a proposition for me?” he asked, clearing his throat.  
  
“Yes,” she replied, turning to look at him now. She had a smile on her face, which made Michel feel uneasy.  
  
Her eyes travelled over his body. It seemed she was studying him as well. For a moment, Michel felt as if he were standing naked, such was the intensity of her eyes as they shone in the sunset. He had a strange desire to cover himself when suddenly Lavellan turned away.  
  
She walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Michel had strong misgivings about joining her there, so he went and stood on the carpet instead.  
  
“So. Tell me.” Lavellan folded her legs in a criss-cross pattern where she sat. She was still staring at Michel far too intensely for his liking. “Why did you want to work for the Inquisition?”  
  
Michel sighed. He wished she would just get to the point. His hands were starting to sweat, as they did only when he was very tense. “I told you from the start. I wanted to offer my services to help the people. I’m a chevalier after all. I’m trained to fight and that’s pretty much it.”  
  
“Yes, but what do you plan to do now that you’re here? Do you want to fight?” Lavellan’s face looked curious. He could not detect any of the usual look of contempt he was expecting from her, an elf, who knew his heritage.  
  
“My lady, if the Inquisition wants me to fight then I will. What I want is to help the cause in any way I can.” Michel narrowed his eyes in her direction. “But surely that is not all you wished to discuss tonight?”  
  
“No.” Lavellan sighed. “Come here, sit down already.”  
  
Now that she had asked it of him he could hardly refuse. He slowly sat down on the bed, leaving as much space between them as he could.  
  
Lavellan turned her body towards him. Michel tried not to look at her breasts as they moved through her shirt, but it was difficult to ignore...  
  
“Why are you so uncomfortable around me, Michel?” There was a look of anger in her eyes now. “From the very moment we met, I saw you shaking in Emprise du Lion. Then you brush me off every chance you get when our paths cross. Tell me, why is that?”  
  
She had to be joking. Michel rubbed his forehead with one hand and laughed in disbelief. “Do you really not know? How could you not, considering what you already know about me?”  
  
“That you’re elf-blooded?” Lavellan asked, very matter-of-fact, no hint of disgust or anything else in her voice.  
  
“Yes, obviously!” Michel yelled, feeling his anger spill over the edge in frustration. “Why do you need me to say it plainly?”  
  
Lavellan shook her head. “I just don’t understand. Are you like that around all elves, or just me?”  
  
Michel had to scramble for words, losing his eloquence in his rage. “What does it matter?!”  
  
“It matters to me.” Lavellan moved closer to him on the bed, searching his face. “Were you raised in an alienage? Did you know many elves?”  
  
“You don’t know anything!” Michel was on his feet now, hands shaking, unable to control his voice. “Why do you want to understand me? Just tell me what you want so that we can settle this!”  
  
“I want to understand you.” Lavellan was not daunted in the slightest by his display, even though he was towering over her now. “If you’re going to work for me, then I need to know who you are. If it bothers you to be around elves, then I don’t understand why you’d want to stay here.”  
  
“No, that’s--...” The rest of his words were lost to a frustrated groan. Realizing that she was not letting him avoid this conversation, Michel took a deep breath to calm himself. He sat back down on the bed.  
  
When he turned to look at Lavellan again, there was a look of defeat in his eyes. “I’m not tense around all elves. Most of them don’t know me for what I am, so it doesn’t matter. It’s just that I...” He sighed, not sure how she would respond to this. “...I’m not used to working for an elf. Most of the elves I knew were peasants or servants. It’s...different with you.”  
  
“So I’m different.” Lavellan’s voice was still calm.  
  
“Yes. Because of what you do. You are an elf and a woman, yet you command an entire army--you have a whole force of people underneath you. They would follow your word without question. It’s...not something I’ve ever seen before.”  
  
Lavellan tilted her head to the side. “Does that bother you?”  
  
Michel, feeling calmer now that he had said that, spoke softly. “It did. I guess it did, yes. But now I...well, I don’t know.”  
  
“What’s different now?”  
  
The chevalier sighed again. “You know exactly. It’s the reason I’m here tonight. You know my heritage and yet you...” He searched her face again, looking for a way to explain. “I cannot read your face.”  
  
Lavellan brought her own voice down as well. “Look, Michel. I’m not going to tell anyone about your bloodline. That can be a secret between us, if you like.”  
  
Michel stared at her, taking apart every one of her features trying to look for some sort of tell that could betray her words or help him understand her intentions. There was nothing. She might as well have been wearing a mask.  
  
“Why?” Michel asked, reduced to asking now because he could not guess her reasoning. “Why would you do that for me?”  
  
“Because I don’t have any interest in harming you, Michel. The only thing I want is for you to find a home here, to be comfortable around me and everyone else.”  
  
Her voice was soft. As she spoke she rested her hand on top of his own. He flinched, out of nerves, but let her keep it there. For a moment, it was silent, and Lavellan’s thumb stroked the back of Michel’s hand. His hands had grown cold from anxiety and the warmth of her touch felt pleasant against him.  
  
Could he trust her? Michel looked into her eyes once more. Those large, golden elf eyes stared back at him with nothing but calmness and warmth. He did not even detect pity there, which he would have expected at the very least.  
  
“Do you trust me?” she asked.  
  
“I want to.” Michel spoke barely above a whisper. He wanted very much to trust her. In fact, he found that he wanted to give her everything, to let her do anything to him in that moment. A strange heat filled his chest as he considered that. It travelled downward, into his belly, and lower...  
  
Lavellan touched her hand against the side of his face. Michel sighed as he felt it, shocked by her warmth and suddenly wanting more. He leaned against her hand and closed his eyes.  
  
“Then let me help you,” she said, her mouth very near to his ear. Her breath ghosted along his skin and he shivered, the heat in his belly turning to pleasure.  
  
What was this pleasure, all of a sudden? Michel asked himself. Had he always wanted this? She was stroking his face now and a small sound escaped his mouth, a quiet moan. His skin felt electrified wherever she touched him. Why did it feel so good to let her do this?  
  
“Are you alright?” Lavellan asked quietly.  
  
“Yes, my lady,” he answered, opening his eyes to look at her.  
  
Certainly, it had been quite some time since he was touched by anyone. And Lavellan was beautiful, of course, but only an elf...and yet, so different. She was kind, he felt that she legitimately wanted him to trust her. Also, she was a leader. She could...command him easily.  
  
Yes. It was true. He had, secretly, always wanted someone like her who could take control of him so naturally. Maybe he had sensed this in her from the beginning and that was all part of this.  
  
Her face and body were suddenly very close to his. Michel felt enveloped by her warmth. The heat in his stomach responded and all he could think about was getting closer. He turned his head to try and meet her lips for a kiss.  
  
But then Lavellan moved away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. He stared after her, confused but stunned into silence by the look of excitement on her face.  
  
“Stand up. Over there.” She pointed to a spot in the middle of the carpet.  
  
Michel did as she said, feeling himself harden at being told so plainly what to do. He did not know where this was going, but he hoped dearly that it was...  
  
“Strip.”  
  
He registered the order with intense relief. Looking at her, he felt the barriers between them breaking down. Now it was clear. She wanted him, not as part of a deal, but just for his own sake. And he would gladly give himself...perhaps a little too eagerly, he realized with some shame.  
  
Saying nothing, Michel began to undress, feeling Lavellan’s eyes on him the entire time. When he stood in only his small clothes, he hesitated. His eyes met the Inquisitor’s again for reassurance.  
  
On her part, Lavellan could not be more pleased with the way things had turned out. She had managed to get Michel to trust her enough that the man was now stripping in her bedroom, on her orders alone. She could see by the bulge in his smalls that he was enjoying this. That was very good, too. She knew she had been right about him all along...this was something he would appreciate.  
  
Then she realized that Michel had stopped and was staring at her. The man was blushing, his hands hovering around his smalls as if unsure if he should continue. That made sense, she thought, it was the next barrier between them. Any further and he would be exposing himself to her as a lover.  
  
“Those as well, please.” Lavellan decided she would ask nicely because he was so adorable when he blushed. Besides, she would be gentle with him this time because it was their first time.  
  
So Michel slowly took off the rest and stood naked before her. He could not meet her gaze, but he felt it all over his body as she looked at him. Clearly she could see that he was enjoying this, his cock was already halfway hard. He sighed to relieve some of the tension.  
  
“You are quite a beautiful man, do you know that?” Her words were flattering, but he only blushed harder.  
  
Lavellan studied Michel’s cock where he stood. It was decent in length, average in girth, overall smaller than Cullen’s. Still, it was pleasant on its own, and Lavellan appreciated the sight of it. She wanted to feel it in her hand as she coaxed it to grow harder and fuller...  
  
“Alright, now come over here, Michel. Lay down next to me.”  
  
So the chevalier willed himself to walk over to the bed, very conscious of how the Inquisitor observed him as he moved. Lavellan put her hand on his chest and guided him to lay down on his back.  
  
It was a rather comfortable bed, Michel noted. Lavellan stared at him a little more and then broke out into a smile he could only describe as predatory. He looked back at her curiously, no idea what she would ask next, but thoroughly enjoying the suspense.  
  
Without a word, the elf climbed on top of him. She straddled his waist but did not sit down, letting herself hover over him on her knees. She ran a hand down his face and neck, stopping at his chest to drag her hand back and forth across the soft flesh and muscle there. Her touch felt amazing, Michel found himself sighing. He moved his hands up to touch her, almost without realizing, but Lavellan swatted them away.  
  
“No,” she said. “Do not move.”  
  
So Michel dropped his hands and kept still. It was difficult, he wanted to feel her quite badly now, but it was so much better to follow the command...his breath quickened in response, feeling intense heat throughout his body.  
  
“You follow orders well,” Lavellan told him. “I like that.”  
  
Her last words were spoken so low Michel thought he could feel them resonate. His cock jumped at the sound and also at the clear praise. He wanted to follow her orders well, it was true..  
  
“So,” the elf began, almost conversationally, laying her hands flat on his chest. “You know that I’m with the commander, right?”  
  
“What?” Michel asked, shock coursing through his body.  
  
“Hadn’t you heard?” Lavellan asked, seeming surprised. “Yes, Commander Cullen and I have been together some time now.” She glanced at the door to her bedroom. “He should be here soon, actually.”  
  
“What...?” Michel asked again, the shock giving way to pleasure as she leaned over him.  
  
The chevalier had no time to process what she was telling him because the Inquisitor brought her face down to meet his and began kissing his lips with intense passion. She pressed down against him slightly to add some force behind the kiss, putting his lips to work. Michel moaned into it, raising his hands to touch her but then dropping them again as soon as he remembered her order.  
  
“So nice...” Lavellan whispered as she pulled away. “I could do this all day, you know.”  
  
Something about the way she flattered him, so unnecessarily but so sincerely...Michel had never heard such things from a lover before. The words made him want to melt into her touch even more.  
  
“But, we have more interesting things to do besides kiss, thankfully.” She smiled at him again.  
  
Lavellan reached above herself, into the headboard. Apparently the headboard of the bed served as a cupboard of sorts, because Michel noticed for the first time small doors that looked like they could hold a variety of things. Watching Michel for his reaction, Lavellan pulled out a thick black cord, long and seemingly sturdy. The chevalier’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of it, not sure what she intended to do with it. He was unfamiliar with this type of love, though he had heard stories before of such things, between men at the bar and nobles at parties. How would it feel...?  
  
As if in answer to his question, Lavellan stroked his chest with the cord, letting it fall against him and then slowly dragging it across his skin. The material was silky and smooth, but strong. Michel could not guess what it was made from, but he shivered at the foreign sensation.  
  
Lavellan grabbed Michel’s hands and held them together above his head. She wrapped the cord around his wrists, binding his hands together. He gasped as he realized what she was doing. Lavellan pulled the cord tight to cut off the slack. Michel groaned in surprise and unexpected pleasure.  
  
“Tight enough?” Lavellan whispered into his ear.  
  
Michel moaned in response. He had never been handled roughly by a lover and it was...well, he was already fully hard and they had barely even done anything.  
  
Lavellan giggled and then moved away from him. She sat down next to him and said, “Let’s see, shall we?”  
  
Then, the elf grabbed hold of the knot between his hands and pulled, dragging him up into a sitting position. The knot held firm.  
  
“Seems fine to me. Are you comfortable, my dear?”  
  
MIchel tested the ropes. He could not break the knot, in fact the cord seemed to pull tighter together the more he fought against it. He looked up at the Inquisitor with wide eyes.  
  
“It’s...” But he had no words to describe the strange feeling. He knew that he would be bound together like this until the Inquisitor saw fit to free him. That knowledge made him feel flush and even a little dizzy from arousal.  
  
Still, Lavellan was staring at him waiting for an answer. “Its...fine,” he said. “...It’s good.”  
  
“Wonderful.” Lavellan reached above him and pulled out another item, a black silk scarf this time.  
  
“Close your eyes,” she said. He hesitated for only a moment before closing them.  
  
Sure enough, Lavellan wrapped the scarf around his eyes, tying it tightly at the back of his head. It was tight enough that he could not open his eyes without struggling, and even if he could he would be exposing his eyeballs to the silk, not a very pleasant thought. So, he had no choice but to keep his eyes closed.  
  
“All good?” Lavellan asked.  
  
Michel nodded. The darkness made him feel vulnerable, but bound and blind, he knew that he was completely at the Inquisitor’s will. His breath quickened and his cock hardened until it honestly ached. She had not touched him there yet, but he was dying for it. It seemed that being tied up this way had made him almost desperate.  
  
Suddenly he felt hands on his body, Lavellan’s of course. She pulled him towards her by the knot on his hands. His face landed against hers, their lips meeting for a kiss. Surprised, Michel kissed her back fiercely, so happy to have contact with her.  
  
When she pulled away, Michel tried to follow her, but she left the bed and he could not know where she went. He heard sounds, perhaps of clothing being removed. After a few minutes of waiting in darkness, he felt something against his legs. Smooth skin, he fancied. He felt pressure and more skin, then he knew the Inquisitor had perched herself in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck for support.  
  
In fact, Lavellan was fully naked, but Michel had no way of knowing that at first. She hummed slightly, loving the feel of their bare flesh pressed together.  
  
“You have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now,” she said in a low, dark tone. “It’s making me so wet.”  
  
To show him, Lavellan moved his bound hands down to her cunt, letting him stroke her wetness for himself. They both moaned at the sensation. She kissed him again, moving his hands back and forth to please her. It was true, she was unbelievably wet at the moment. And Michel’s cock twitched as he touched her. She could feel him trying to wiggle his fingers against her, as much as he could with his hands so tightly bound.  
  
Suddenly, the two of them heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Lavellan pulled away and smiled, glancing at the door in excitement.  
  
“My love, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve already sent word to Harding about--..” Cullen opened the door, already mid-conversation. He stopped abruptly when he took in the sight of Lavellan’s bedroom.  
  
There on the bed was a naked Michel de Chevin, blindfolded and bound at the wrists. Lavellan sat in his lap, also naked, licking the chevalier’s knuckles while the man groaned in apparent pleasure.  
  
“Sweet Maker...” Cullen’s jaw dropped. He felt his pants tighten and his face turn bright red. “Arien...was this...was this what you had in mind?”  
  
Lavellan looked at Cullen and grinned. She let go of Michel’s hands and stood up. “Cullen, thank the Maker you’re here. What took you so long? I had to start without you.”  
  
She looked over at Michel. His whole body had turned a lovely shade of pink, Lavellan realized, probably because he was blushing. The elf was fascinated by the sight of it and wanted to see more. Gripping the knot on his hands, she dragged him up until he was standing. She turned his body so that he could face Cullen fully.  
  
“Here’s our newest agent, my love, Michel de Chevin. Glad you two could finally meet.” Lavellan looked smugly pleased.  
  
Cullen’s eyes roamed the chevalier’s form. Now that he could see all of him, the commander had to admit, Michel was breathtakingly attractive. Especially bound and tied, with a raging hard-on between his legs. As for Michel, the light pink on his body turned rosy red as he blushed harder, knowing the commander was looking at him.  
  
“Michel,” Cullen began, running a hand over his chin. “You’re looking...quite well. Damn near amazing, I’d say.”  
  
The chevalier turned a deeper shade of red. “...Commander,” he muttered.  
  
“Now, come and join us, Cullen. Let’s get you out of that armor.” Lavellan beckoned Cullen closer as she spoke.  
  
So, the commander shut the door behind him and walked over to his lover. They embraced and kissed briefly. A meaningful look passed between them, one of acceptance and consent, each one happy that the other approved. Lavellan felt more than a little relieved as she stripped Cullen of everything he wore. She was also unbelievably excited for what would come next. For his part, Cullen was agonizingly aroused by the sight of his love and the naked chevalier, but apprehensive about actually doing anything. He would have to let Lavellan take the lead.  
  
And she was more than happy to do so.  
  
Once Cullen was naked, Lavellan kissed him one more time. She grabbed his hardening cock and stroked him calmly, just to get him relaxed. Cullen sighed into her touch, responding immediately. He moaned once, Lavellan figured it was enough. Then she took hold of Michel and pulled the chevalier closer to Cullen so that they were all standing close together. The elf rubbed her body against the chevalier’s, letting him feel all of her, especially her modest-sized breasts.  
  
When she broke away, Cullen glanced once at his love. She nodded. Needing no more than that, the commander took hold of Michel’s chin and started kissing him just as passionately.  
  
Michel felt a rough, unfamiliar mouth against his and realized that it must have been Cullen kissing him. The man had a strong, confident kiss, but there was also something undeniably gentle about him, as if the man took care to hold a lot of strength back so he would not overwhelm Michel. The chevalier was enthralled by the sheer sensuality of this and he leaned forward for more contact. Understanding what it was Michel desired, Cullen wrapped an arm around the man, pulling him in against his chest.  
  
At that, Michel moaned out loud. The feeling of being wrapped in Cullen’s strong embrace was the perfect counter-balance to his vulnerability. He felt protected, but still subject to whatever they wished. It was a heady feeling. Michel kissed Cullen back harder and slotted his body completely against the man. When his erection met the commander’s hip, both of them groaned in surprise.  
  
Lavellan, needless to say, was so aroused by the sight of the two warriors enjoying each other that she almost forgot she had other plans. But when she saw Michel start to grind his hips against Cullen, she realized it was time to take action.  
  
“Michel,” she said softly, speaking very near his ear. “Follow me.”  
  
Then the elf took hold of the chevalier’s shoulders and guided him towards the bed. “Get on your knees,” she commanded, as softly as she could. She wanted, if nothing else, for Michel to trust her after this, so she hoped that her honest love and appreciation for the man was clear.  
  
Michel climbed onto the bed and got on all fours, resting on his forearms with his bound hands clasped firmly together. He was aware of how exposed he was and he could hear himself breathing heavily.  
  
Lavellan spoke from somewhere next to him. “Let us take care of everything, my dear. I’m your Inquisitor, he’s your commander. Follow our instructions and I promise it will be amazing for you, alright?” She stroked the back of his neck as she talked. “And if you want us to stop then just say _halani_ and it’s done. I promise. Understood?”  
  
The chevalier took a deep breath. “Yes, my lady,” he said quietly.  
  
“Good.”  
  
Satisfied, Lavellan slapped his backside once sharply. Michel cried out in response, not expecting that touch. His neglected cock began leaking in desperation.  
  
Smiling, the elf moved around to sit in front of Michel. She stroked his face some and looked over at Cullen waiting for him to make his move. The commander took one look at the man spread out before him on the bed and did not need to be reassured. This was what Arien wanted and, by the Maker, Cullen was harder than stone thinking about making love to this man.  
  
So, the commander reached into the headboard and retrieved a small vial of oil. Remembering the last time he and Lavellan had used it together, the man smiled and stood behind Michel. Before doing anything, he grabbed hold of the man’s hips to massage him, getting him used to his touch.  
  
Lavellan pushed Michel’s head downward. “Kiss me,” she said, bringing her thighs against his face. The chevalier complied, laying kisses up and down her legs.  
  
Meanwhile, Cullen slathered his hand up with oil. He figured Michel had waited long enough without contact, so the commander wrapped his hand around the chevalier’s straining penis. He stroked him slowly, letting the oil slick most of the way. Michel gasped and moaned, shivering from head to toe. He had been waiting so long to be touched that he thought he might climax just from Cullen’s steady grip.  
  
“Focus,” Lavellan said, grabbing his head in both hands. “Don’t come yet.”  
  
Cullen stopped touching him for a moment, realizing that the man was more than ready for the next step. It was about damn time, as far as Cullen was concerned.  
  
So, the commander slicked his hand again with the oil. Holding onto Michel’s hips with one hand, Culllen stroked the chevalier's entrance and pushed in slightly, coaxing the chevalier to get accustomed to him. The commander knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of things so he did not want to rush too far ahead and risk hurting the poor man.  
  
In truth, Michel had only ever been with a handful of lovers. Some of them were people he had paid for, the rest were drunken happenstances that never lasted more than a night. In the Orlesian court, lovers were a liability, a point of leverage that anyone might exploit if they uncovered a tryst. Michel had always had more than enough liability without all that.  
  
As a result, Cullen’s gentle stretching was the perfect thing for him. As the commander moved further, pushing harder, adding more fingers, the chevalier found himself actually pushing back, needy for friction.  
  
“You like that?” Cullen asked, fucking him steadily with his fingers.  
  
Michel bit back a moan, wishing he could reach down and touch himself to relieve the ache between his legs. His hands twitched against the binding.  
  
“Answer him,” Lavellan ordered. She carded her fingers through his hair and spread her legs wider for Michel to kiss further up.  
  
Swallowing hard, Michel answered quietly, “Yes, I like it.”  
  
“Good boy,” murmured Lavellan. Cullen gripped his ass firmly in response, pulling out his hand and putting himself into position.  
  
Slowly, using one hand to guide himself, the commander pushed his cock into Michel, almost doubling over in pleasure at the tightness. For a moment, Michel went rigid, estimating how large the commander might be, because he had obviously never gotten a chance to see it. He thought it might be quite big...  
  
“Relax,” Lavellan said. “Cullen’s taking his time.”  
  
Filled with relief, Michel gave over his control to Cullen and Lavellan, letting the commander stretch him and fill him with his cock, and letting the Inquisitor guide his face against her dripping wet cunt. He licked, tentatively at first, then with added vigor as he heard the elf cry out in pleasure. When Cullen buried himself all the way to the hilt, Michel sighed, in both pleasure and honest joy.  
  
Now he knew what it felt like to be enjoyed by two people at once.  
  
“Yes, that’s it...move your mouth against me like that,” Lavellan said, gratification clear in her voice. Actually, the elf found that Michel’s tongue moved with surprising intuition, rolling over her most sensitive areas with such skill that she had to bite her lip to keep her own moans from spilling out.  
  
Michel grew bolder, licking and moving his mouth against Lavellan with undisguised enjoyment. Cullen was spurred on by the sight of Michel’s face buried against his lover, and he could barely hold himself back at the wonderful feeling of Michel’s ass. He rode the chevalier harder, snapping his hips forward while still trying to be gentle.  
  
As Cullen hit a spot within Michel that made him want to scream, the chevalier broke away from Lavellan.  
  
“Commander!” he cried. “Please, fuck me harder!”  
  
Moaning at the words, Cullen did as Michel asked and drove into him at that angle, loving the sounds of the man’s cries. They became muffled as Lavellan pushed his face down against her once more. Realizing that they were all near the edge, Cullen wrapped a hand around Michel’s cock again, this time pumping him in time to his thrusts.  
  
Naturally, Michel was the first to come. He rocked against Cullen’s hand and cock, crying out as he spent himself. Tears sprang to his eyes before he could try to hold them back.  
  
When he was finished coming, Lavellan pushed his face back down against her, but all it took was a few swipes of his tongue and the elf climaxed sweetly. She gripped Michel’s hair perhaps a little too hard as she rode out her orgasm, but the chevalier did not care in the slightest.  
  
Assured that both his lovers had reached their peaks, Cullen let himself go and came hard into Michel. He regretted it, actually, it probably would have been better if he pulled out, but it had taken too much of his control to hold back, so he was too far gone to attempt that.  
  
Now that it was over, Michel collapsed onto Lavellan’s stomach, his knees giving out as well. Cullen pulled out and laid down next to them, panting heavily. That had been more exertion than he cared to admit. Lavellan stroked Michel’s head and turned contemplative.  
  
“I like you between my legs, dear,” she said after a time. “I might have to keep you there.”  
  
With that, she undid the tie on the blindfold and discarded the scarf. Michel blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. First, he looked over at the reclining commander and took in the full sight of his glorious naked body. Just that sight was enough almost to get him aroused again, but he held back. Then he watched as Lavellan undid the binding on his wrists, freeing his hands and pulling away the cord.  
  
When it was done, he looked up at her. She looked tired now, but thoroughly satisfied. Michel felt proud to have done that. He also felt bonded with the Inquisitor in a different way, as if the secret between them coupled with the thing they had just done formed a connection deeper than friendship or family. Loyalty, perhaps? Or trust? He could not call it love. Not...just yet.  
  
“Are you alright, Michel?” Cullen asked, looking at the man with a hint of worry. “We might have...put you through the wringer a little too much just now...”  
  
Michel shook his head. He wanted to kiss the commander again, but he settled for resting his hand against his shoulder. “No, it’s fine. I’m...quite alright.”  
  
“That’s a relief,” Cullen answered. He passed the back of his hand over the chevalier’s face affectionately, then laid back down to rest.  
  
“So,” Lavellan began, laying down and pulling Michel along with her. “Do you trust me now?”  
  
“Yes,” the chevalier said with a small smile. “I trust you, my lady.”  
  
“Good.” She stared at him meaningfully. “Because that was your first assignment.”  
  
  
  
  
  
The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It's done! I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did. I'm honestly considering a follow-up because...yeah, wow, this took my so long to write that I honestly think it's part of me now. In the best way :)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Long smut is best smut, happy bioware times!


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